


piquant

by reciprocity



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Katsuki Yuuri, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:19:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9543476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reciprocity/pseuds/reciprocity
Summary: When he reaches his other knee, he stops, eyes flicking back up to Yuuri’s and making certain to hold his gaze.“Oh, Yuuri,” Viktor purrs, lips dragging along skin. “I am going toruinyou.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Lily, who upon reading my last fic said "I would've read this if it had straight-up been 5k of Victor eating Yuuri out," so I... almost made that dream come true.

The first time Viktor uses his mouth on Yuuri, it’s nothing short of a revelation.

Before Viktor, Yuuri had hardly been a virgin. In college he had tumbled his way through just as many beds as any of his friends were willing to admit to having done either; finding dates that weren’t either perverts or misguided straight guys looking for a change of scenery did provide more of a challenge, but Yuuri somehow got by.

Through his handful of escapades, Yuuri had not once let anyone go down on him. A couple of them had offered, sure, but he’d always been quick to turn the offer down. His hesitation was hard to articulate even in his own head; something keeping him from feeling fully comfortable with the idea of someone else so intimate with a part of himself he still wasn’t entirely at ease with himself. 

It was just easier to keep it to one-sided blow jobs, the occasional careful fingering, and once, a quick fuck, that had been enjoyable if not particularly memorable.

With Viktor, it feels — different. No one has treated Yuuri _poorly_ before, a fact he is definitely grateful for, but Viktor is the first partner Yuuri has had that is so — attentive, enthusiastic. Viktor is all warm touches and dripping praise and long languid kisses. The first time Yuuri lets him see him naked, Viktor looks at him with something like reverence in his eyes.

It is — almost — too much for Yuuri sometimes.

Viktor holds him like he’s spun from glass, or some precious metal. It doesn’t strike Yuuri as calculated in the way that some of the men he has been with had been. Viktor isn’t worried about scaring Yuuri off, or under the false presumption that he needs to be handled delicately lest he break. Yuuri doesn’t let himself entirely believe it but when Viktor touches him, he feels — important. Cherished.

It’s enough to send his heart beating out of his chest. It is also enough to have him reconsidering certain past aversions in the bedroom.

“Viktor,” he begins tentatively, one night. Viktor hums, one hand absently stroking over Yuuri’s thigh, the other holding up some magazine or other. They’re in bed, though not doing much, content at the moment to lie in each other’s quiet company.

“I- I was just wondering,” Yuuri starts, wrong-footed and second-guessing himself already. Viktor turns clear blue eyes on him, and he feels a preemptive blush begin to spread over his cheeks. “A- about what you said. Last night.”

Cocking his head, Viktor gives him a questioning look. He’s set aside the magazine now, attention entirely on Yuuri.

Yuuri bites his lip and pushes on, voice quieting and gaze slipping as he goes. “While you were fucking me, I mean.”

Viktor’s grip on his leg goes tight. When Yuuri manages to meet his gaze again, his crystalline eyes have gone dark, and the air in the room feels warmer against his overtight skin.

“Which part?” he asks, lowly, a familiar leonine smile pulling at his lips.

Yuuri finds his confidence in the look Viktor gives him, the desire there clear and unignorable. He places his own fingers over Viktor’s, and drags them a few pointed inches up. “About,” Yuuri licks his lips and watches Viktor’s gaze move with the motion. “About wanting to taste me.”

The blue of Viktor’s eyes is almost indiscernible now. “Yes,” he breathes, an answer to more than one question.

“I... want you to, too.”

Viktor makes a noise, half-bitten off, and presses their mouths abruptly together. There are sounds coming from the back of his throat, high and needy, and Yuuri feels himself already growing slick inside of his loose briefs. Viktor presses his free palm there, the heel of his hand grinding mercilessly down, and Yuuri pulls away from the kiss with a gasp.

Viktor watches him with half-lidded eyes. He licks his own lips, gaze flicking down and then meeting Yuuri’s once again. He pulls his other hand out from under Yuuri’s and cups his cheek. “Yuuri, _zolotse_ , sweetheart. I want to, _God_ do I, but... are you certain?”

The saccharine tone of voice and the genuine concern in Viktor’s eyes are almost enough to bring tears to Yuuri’s own eyes. He manages to swallow down on the swell of emotion and nod, as fervently as he can. “Yes, Viktor, I— yes.”

Viktor presses a quick peck to his lips, nodding back. “Okay, just… we’ll take it slow, alright?”

“Okay,” he echoes, and Viktor is suddenly between his legs, and oh. The sight of _this_ alone is enough to make Yuuri wonder why it had taken himself so long to ask.

Viktor wraps a hand around one of his ankles and pulls one of Yuuri’s legs up, bending it at the knee. He drops a kiss to the side of it, and Yuuri buries his shaking hands in the sheets, telling himself to relax. Anticipation thrums through him as Viktor makes his way slowly up to his thigh, peppering kisses all along the way. He stops just shy of the line of Yuuri’s underwear, glancing up at Yuuri. “Okay?”

Yuuri manages a tight nod. Viktor gives him a small smile, and then nuzzles into the space between Yuuri’s legs, nosing right along the cotton of his briefs.

“ _Viktor_ ,” Yuuri gasps, but already he’s moving away, nipping against the skin of his inner thigh and then trailing back down the opposite leg.

When he reaches his other knee, he stops, eyes flickering back up to Yuuri’s and making sure to hold his gaze.

“Oh, Yuuri,” he purrs, lips dragging along skin. “I am going to _ruin_ you.”

If the words themselves weren’t enough to make Yuuri weak, the possessive, gravelly tilt to Viktor’s voice would do it alone. He can feel the dampness spreading between his legs, and he barely suppresses a full-body shudder.

Viktor continues to watch him as he lowers himself down onto elbows between Yuuri’s spread thighs. He hooks nimble fingers under his waistband, and waits. Yuuri nods, a touch less rigid now. One of his hands flies up instinctively to push the bangs from Viktor’s face so that he can better see his face. Viktor leans into the touch, turning to press a kiss to the skin of Yuuri’s wrist.

At Yuuri’s hesitation, Viktor smiles again. “Go ahead, _solnyshko_ ,” he hums, and Yuuri tangles gentle fingers in his hair.

As if that was just the signal he was waiting for, Viktor tugs down, removing Yuuri’s underwear in one quick move.

Viktor has seen Yuuri naked countless times, is possibly more well-acquainted with his body than Yuuri is himself. Still, having him so close and looking so intently now — it takes adjusting.

“Viktor,” he says, voice small.

Viktor’s gaze immediately moves up. “Too much?” he asks, and Yuuri knows — he knows he could answer yes right now, or even manage a nod, and Viktor would stop. Wouldn’t kick up a fuss, would lean up and kiss his forehead and just hold him for the rest of the night, if that’s what Yuuri wanted.

He breathes in through his nose. “No,” he manages, after a moment. Viktor’s fingers are stroking, light and undemanding against the skin of his hip. “S’just… new.”

Viktor grins, crooked and so unlike the coy, seductive projection of the few minutes past, it makes Yuuri’s heart pang. “It is,” he grants, and then tilts his head, puppy-like. “Do you want to change positions? It might make things easier, if you felt you had more… control?”

Yuuri’s thoughts stutter, not entirely certain what Viktor is offering. He isn’t sure how else one would even go about—

“I could lie down, and you could sit on my—”

“Oh!” Yuuri’s blush is bright and hot enough to physically burn. “No! That’s!” Yuuri stutters, eyes wide. Viktor is still staring at him with that eager look, and now it _is_ too much. Yuuri bites his lip, gaze sliding away. The images flood his brain, unbidden, and he can’t deny the faint throb of heat they bring. “I think… I think this is good for now.”

Viktor nods easily. “Okay.”

They reach a standstill for the moment. Yuuri’s fingers twitch, more reflexive than intentional, in Viktor’s hair. Viktor makes a tiny noise at the feeling, and Yuuri looks down, locking gazes.

“Okay,” he finds himself repeating, inanely. Viktor, for once, reads the meaning behind Yuuri’s response, and takes it as the silent permission it is.

Viktor’s fingers are long and steady and sure where they graze lightly over Yuuri’s flushed skin. Viktor hums, keeping one hand stroking reassuringly at his waist, as he uses his other to spread Yuuri open.

The cold air of the room sweeps in along Yuuri’s damp folds. Viktor drags a careful finger up the length of him, ending pressing delicately against his clit. Yuuri makes a high, tight noise in his throat, the pressure just enough to make him want for more, this alone not anywhere near enough. His thighs clench up instinctively when he feels Viktor’s breath ghost over him.

“Beautiful, Yuuri,” Viktor whispers, right up against him. Yuuri barely registers the words before he feels what is unmistakably a kiss, followed by a firm wet pressure against his center.

Yuuri moans, loud and uninhibited, his entire world narrowing down to the singular sensation between his legs.

Viktor hardly gives him a moment to appreciate it, before he’s repeating the motion, tongue laving over his clit. Yuuri’s brain is short-circuiting, pulled taut on a razor wire rapidly tightening.

He eases up after a moment, still long enough to have Yuuri a heaving mess above him. When Yuuri gathers himself enough to glance down, his eyes catch on Viktor’s dark and watchful ones. “Good, _lyubimiy_?” he asks with a smirk entirely too self-satisfied for Yuuri’s liking.

Instead of giving an answer, Yuuri tightens his grasp on Viktor’s hair infinitesimally. His hand curves along the back of Viktor’s skull; all it takes is the barest of pressure there to make Viktor feel it.

Viktor makes that same, small half cut-off noise from before. His eyes droop shut, and he is immediately back to task, nosing along Yuuri’s pelvic bone and licking at him almost tentatively. He gets one hand on Yuuri’s thigh, and presses his legs further open for better access.

Yuuri lets out a long breath, lets himself fall into the slow and steady waves of pleasure. They’ve only just started, but the sensations are all so new and Viktor’s mouth is skilled, easily taking Yuuri apart with every careful touch, each messy kiss. His normally impressive stamina is nothing against this particular onslaught, and it’s not long at all before Yuuri is pulling less-than-gently at the strands between his fingers, gasping out, “Viktor, _Viktor_ , ‘m close.”

Viktor hums, and the reverberations of it make Yuuri shudder. Not even raising his head, Viktor drags his tongue up and up.

When Viktor abruptly pulls Yuuri’s throbbing clit into his mouth and _sucks_ , it’s all Yuuri can do to keep from whiting out. He comes, hot and unexpected, shouting Viktor’s name, barely intelligible.

“Fuck.” Yuuri’s voice comes out strained, his entire frame wracking with aftershocks.

Viktor murmurs something too quiet for him to catch, muffled slightly by the skin of Yuuri’s thigh where Viktor is nuzzling against it. Yuuri is still throbbing, his muscles tensed and spasming; he doesn’t think he could stand up on his own two legs right now if he tried.

Viktor pulls away after a few drawn-out moments, lifting himself enough to get a better view of Yuuri’s no doubt alarmingly flushed face. “Okay, Yuuri?” he asks, voice gentle and soft.

Yuuri nods, slow and dazed. “O-kay,” he manages to reply, sounding wrung-out. Viktor flashes him a quiet, pleased smile, before resettling himself comfortably between Yuuri’s thighs.

“Vit—?” Yuuri chokes on the last syllable as he feels Viktor’s mouth press feverish and insistent against his center once again. He hisses, both hands winding themselves tight in Viktor’s hair.

“ _Viktor_ ,” he groans out, missing admonishing by a clean mile and landing somewhere between shocked and covetous.

Viktor is less hesitant now, mouth unforgiving and intentful. His tongue flirts along the edge of Yuuri’s slit, before pushing only the tip in. Yuuri downright whines, unused to the slickness of it. Viktor makes a low noise in the back of his throat, and Yuuri chokes out a moan in response.

He tries in vain to focus on the soothing circles Viktor’s fingers are tracing along his hips, tries to breathe in through his nose, deep and calm. It’s all _too much_ and _not enough_ , and as Viktor’s tongue fucks him more firmly, he can feel his body already giving in, forcibly unwinding. One of his hands drops to Viktor shoulder, nails digging in sharp, anchoring.

Viktor continues to thrust shallowly into him; he uses the thumb of the hand not currently holding Yuuri’s hips down to brush against Yuuri’s clit, pressure light but unwavering. This, at least, is familiar, if not any aid in staving off the sharp stabs of desire currently threatening to overwhelm him.

He squirms beneath the touch and Viktor’s mouth, feeling pulled apart and stripped down to the twin points of firey desire Viktor is currently stoking. He digs his nails in harder, and Viktor is only spurred on by the action, tongue pressing in deeper and fingers stroking harder against him. The moan that rattles loose from his chest rattles something from Yuuri as well. His head drops back, eyes shutting tight, and whispers Viktor’s name almost prayerful.

Yuuri’s second orgasm doesn’t hit quite as hard, but lasts longer. He loses track of himself in the momentum of it, building for what feels an impossible length of time. When the peak finally does hit, his hips jerk up of their own volition, grinding hard against Viktor’s mouth. Viktor groans, all but burying his face between Yuuri’s legs, and rides it out, not relenting for a moment. Yuuri trembles and cries out, thoughts blanking for a full minute.

By the time coherent thought begins to filter back through, Viktor has moved up, lying stretched out beside him. Yuuri’s limbs are still shaking lightly, and Viktor is running gentling hands over them, gaze riveted on Yuuri's face.

Yuuri blinks at him, slow and long as he gathers himself together again. “Viktor,” he croaks out. He vaguely wonders if he looks as wrecked as he sounds. Viktor grins at him, lopsided and pleased.

Yuuri, with overly purposeful motions, reaches blindly behind himself, fingers searching until he finds the edge of Viktor’s pillowcase.

When he brings the pillow crashing down on Viktor’s face, his fiancé lets out an undignified splutter. Yuuri smirks in grim satisfaction.

Viktor pushes the pillow off of himself and doesn’t bother to complain, only looking sullen for the second it takes Yuuri to lean in and press a full and lingering kiss to his lips. When Yuuri pulls away again, Viktor is looking at him with eyes soft and underlit with warmth.

They still for a moment, before a thought occurs to Yuuri, stalled by his mind’s slow recalibration. “Oh, did you want me to—”

“I’m— good,” Viktor interrupts, not quite meeting his eyes. Yuuri blinks, and peers down between them. He takes in the mess of Viktor’s boxers, and almost has to bite back an incredulous laugh.

The thought of Viktor getting off on getting _him_ off alone, hips grinding desperate against the bed, undone by Yuuri’s undoing, is— well. It’s one worth revisiting later, at the very least.

For now, Yuuri hums agreeably, and contents himself with settling in against Viktor, curling up against his chest. Viktor throws an arm easily over him, pulling him in close.

“Thank you,” Yuuri murmurs into the skin of Viktor’s throat after a few moments of comfortable silence. He feels Viktor swallow, pulling him in even tighter.

“Of course, Yuuri,” he answers, breath ruffling Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri smiles and presses a small, sleepy kiss to Viktor’s neck; lets himself begin to doze, happy and sated, wrapped up in Viktor's arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments are always appreciated, and I also just wanted to say a quick thank you for all of the kind feedback on the last trans!yuuri fic I published! It means a lot to this also-trans author. ^^


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